


Lipstick and Beer

by AidaRonan



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: Bisexual Maria Rambeau, F/F, Femslash, First Meetings, Flirting, Lesbian Carol Danvers, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, own voices (wlw)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 18:48:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20140258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AidaRonan/pseuds/AidaRonan
Summary: Carol sees Maria for the first time at Pancho's Bar. Maria takes her home.





	Lipstick and Beer

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of a milestone for me because it's my first time ever writing f/f porn somehow? So, you know, enjoy.

The first time Carol Danvers laid eyes on Maria Rambeau, Maria was belting her way through “Love is a Battlefield” by Pat Benetar, the mic in one hand and a Coors Light in the other. Up until that moment, letting some of the other girls who lived on base drag her out to Pancho’s Bar had seemed like an okay enough idea. But as her entire world temporarily narrowed down to that one single point in the cosmos, it started to seem like the most important event of her life.

“Sorry, but dibs,” Walker said, sitting on the very edge of a wooden booth, one leg crossed over the knee of the other, pulling her black leather miniskirt taut across her glowy brown skin. For a second, Carol started to argue that she’d seen her first. The woman up on stage was striking—dark skin with a pink undertone, large sultry brown eyes, and a bright smile framed by full lips. Her belted-black minidress was doing her a lot of favors, and Carol was enough of a huge lesbian to feel something inside her quietly say, _oh no_.

How was she supposed to talk to someone with a nose that cute? How was she supposed to talk to someone with a nose that cute in a bar full of fellow Air Force members when the number one rule of being gay in the military was, “shhh.”

But Walker wasn’t looking at the woman on stage, of course she wasn’t. She had her eyes focused on an objectively handsome latino guy at the bar, the guy sporting an Air Force t-shirt and a leather jacket.

“Go for it,” Carol said, turning her attention back on the karaoke performance. With a sharp intake of breath, she felt her heart pause in her chest. Big Brown Eyes was looking right at her.

“_No one can tell us we’re wrong, searching our hearts for so long._”

One corner of Brown Eyes’ lips quirked into a smile, and Carol couldn’t help the way her own face muscles tugged her mouth wide. She had to meet this woman. Of course, meeting her was inevitable when you were a girl in a mostly boys’ club, but an eventual meeting wasn’t a _right now_ meeting and if Carol didn’t get to know her name in the next ten minutes, she was going to combust.

The song wound down, Brown Eyes catching her eye when she put the mic back on the stand. Without thinking, Carol turned her gaze toward the exit.

“Gonna get some air real quick,” Carol said, sliding out of the booth. Walker looked over at her. So did Newton, propped against the wall with her bottle blonde hair in Farah Fawcett feathers.

“Want us to come with you?” Walker asked.

“No, stay and have fun. I just need a quick break from the smoke.”

“Okay, but if there’s any hotties with motorcycles out there, you better not hold out on us, Danvers,” Newton said, kicking out to nudge her with her foot.

“You’ll be the first to know,” Carol said, saluting them both and turning on the heels of her Converse. Outside, the air was delightfully clear. She sucked in a few smokeless lungfuls and leaned against the outside wall of the bar.

“Enjoy the show?”

Brown Eyes was more stunning up close, even under the harsh fluorescents that lit the front of the bar/liquor store combo. Oh Carol’s poor gay soul was doomed.

“Big fan of the performer,” Carol said. Holy shit. Somewhere, she could hear the spirit of Sappho applauding her.

“Yeah, well you know what they say. A performer is only as good as their audience.”

Carol’s eyes went a little wide in delighted surprise, and Brown Eyes cracked up, laughing into the clear night air.

“You’re cute,” she said.

“Danvers. Carol.” Carol offered her a hand.

“Maria Rambeau.” And hell if Carol didn’t feel the universe rearrange itself when Maria slid her hand into hers. “On or off base?” Maria asked, their hands still clasped between them. Neither one of them seemed to see a need to let go.

“On,” Carol said, suddenly regretting her decision to live on base, as though she’d had much of a choice. Pretty much anyone without a family of some kind lived on base, especially earlier on in their career. “You?”

She felt like she knew the answer already. Even though Carol had been stationed there less than a week, if Maria lived on base, it was unlikely she wouldn’t have met her already.

“Off,” Maria said, her mouth quirking into a suggestive smirk and _oh_.

Carol was back inside the bar not seconds later, grabbing her jacket and saying good-bye to Newton and Walker.

“Okay, I guess I lied about the whole you guys being the first to know thing,” Carol said, winking. 

“Hell yes, Danvers,” Walker said, holding up her hand for a high-five. “Take notes, because I will require details.”

“Six page report on our desk on Monday,” Newton called after her.

Carol emerged into the night air to find Maria idling out front in a gold Pontiac. Beaming, she climbed into the passenger seat. Joan Jett blasted from the speakers when Maria pulled out of the parking lot. Exchanging smiles the whole way, they both sang along, Carol losing some of the lyrics but Maria hitting 90 percent of them and laughing infectiously where she missed the rest.

They made it through almost three full songs before Maria pulled the car into the driveway of a small ranch style home. Heart starting to beat faster, Carol let Maria lead her to the front door and inside, both of them abandoning their shoes by the door.

“You want a beer?” Maria asked, stopping in a kitchen with laminate countertops—slightly dated in a pale pink, but Maria seemed to have rolled with that punch, her kitchen done up in muted florals.

“Sure.”

Momentarily disappearing into the fridge, Maria pulled a bottle opener off the door and opened two longnecks. Unable to take her eyes off her, Carol brought hers to her lips. The first sip was delightfully cold, the carbonation seeming to bubble right up against her nerves and sooth them a good five percent.

“Is that your daughter?” Carol asked, nodding at a picture stuck to the fridge. Maria and a little girl with skin a few shades lighter than hers and a big head of dark hair. Carol stepped closer and smiled fondly. The little girl had Maria’s nose.

“Is that a problem?” Maria asked softly, her voice unwavering.

“Why would it be a problem?” Carol frowned. Oh. Right.

“Baggage. The fact that I’ve been with a man at least once. Some women don’t want anything to do with a woman who also likes men.”

“Do you?”

“Like men?” Maria nodded. “Doesn’t mean I can’t be monogamous.”

“Of course not.” Carol smiled warmly. “What’s her name?”

“Monica, and she comes first always.” Maria tilted a swig of beer into her mouth without looking away.

“She should.”

A beat of silence. Maria set her bottle down on the counter with a quiet clink.

“Do you want to go to bed with me, Carol?”

Carol sucked in a breath. The air in Maria’s kitchen suddenly felt too warm, and she pressed the cold beer bottle to her neck to cool the flush on her skin.

“Yes,” she breathed.

Maria took Carol’s beer bottle from her hand and put it next to hers, filling the empty space with her own hand that she used to lead Carol through the house. They wound up in the bedroom, Maria using a dimmer switch on the wall to turn the lights down low. Carol took in the space—the bed unmade and lived-in, a trio of pictures of Monica on the dresser among a scatter of makeup and accessories, a large poster of Bessie Coleman in a frame over a plush chair that had clearly served as the epicenter of Maria’s evening outfit decisions.

“For the record, the olive green jacket would’ve looked cute on you too,” Carol said. “Then again, what wouldn’t?”

“Come here.”

Carol stepped into Maria’s space, shivering at the feeling of Maria’s hand sliding across the back of her neck. She wound her own around Maria’s back, resting one hand between her shoulder blades, the other on her iliac crest.

“You’re so beautiful,” Carol said.

“You gonna kiss me now, or what?” Maria smiled, and Carol closed the space between them. The kiss tasted waxy with lipstick, then hoppy with beer when they both opened their mouths. Maria walked them backwards without pulling apart, spinning them so she could nudge Carol down onto the sheets.  
  
Carol scooted up the mattress, Maria following her on all fours, her dress hiking up to reveal a pair of muscular thighs. Carol lost any train of thought she’d been on, her eyes following that new expanse of skin up as far as she could before Maria’s dress got in the way once more.

While Carol was distracted, Maria’s hands found the hem of her shirt, pulling it up over her head of blonde hair. Maria trailed kisses over Carol’s clavicles, down her sternum, then over the faint outline of her ribcage. Carol felt every drag of those lips, arousal pooling between her legs. When Maria kissed up to Carol’s mouth again, she left behind streaks of beige-pink lipstick on Carol’s skin. Her hands gently moved under Carol’s back while she licked into her mouth, and Carol leaned up so Maria could unhook her bra and pull it off her arms, revealing a pair of breasts that were small, almost disappearing when Carol was on her back.

With the ease of someone who had to do pushups frequently, Maria pushed herself up on her arms to look at her, laughing softly and wiping at the corner of Carol’s mouth with her thumb. Carol reached up and returned the favor, wiping the waxy pigment from Maria’s skin.

“Can I?” Carol asked, nodding at Maria’s dress.

“Yeah, of course you can,” Maria said, sitting up on her knees. Carol bent at the middle, reaching for the belt around her waist first, unhooking it and tossing it to the floor. Then Carol took hold of the hem, her breathing shallow and anticipatory, and peeled the fabric up to reveal the rest of Maria’s thighs. A pair of plain gray cotton panties came next, then swaths of soft skin, then a matching cotton bra.

Carol fell back on the pillow, looking at Maria’s exposed body. It was toned the way it had to be to pass Air Force fitness tests, an obvious amount of muscle clinging to her legs and core and arms. It was also human and real—a faint dappling of cellulite on the backs of her thighs, a white splotch of a birthmark on the skin above her left hip, stretch marks on her abdomen that Carol had to assume were from Monica. Carol had a lot of these things too—cellulite on her ass, stretch marks on her hips from the growth spurt she’d hit sophomore year, and scars—so many scars.

She leaned up again, burying her face in the space between the soft cotton cups of Maria’s bra and mouthing at the skin there while she unhooked it from the back. Above her, Maria let out an aroused sigh. Hands on Maria’s back and butt, Carol encouraged her onto the mattress. The bra fell to the floor, and Carol’s lips kept moving, mapping swaths of skin and tonguing at hardened nipples.

Up close, Carol thought Maria’s birthmark looked a little like Australia. She slid her mouth over Brisbane, then Sydney, then continued down over the cotton of Maria’s underwear, leaving teasing kisses over the covered softness that was Maria’s labia. With a press of tongue against fabric, Carol searched out Maria’s clit, reveling in the gentle gasp that it got her to lap at it even with Maria’s briefs in the way.

The taste of Maria’s arousal slowly seeped through the cotton briefs, and when Carol had wet them through, she looped her fingertips under the elastic.

“Can I?” Carol asked.

“Yes, please yes,” Maria breathed, and Carol tugged Maria’s underwear down her legs. She was not prepared for what was beneath them. Maria wasn’t Carol’s first time. She’d been between the thighs of other women before, had seen them more intimately than some of them had probably even seen themselves—all of them stunning in their own ways. But, and maybe it was the arousal talking, Maria was perfect. The mound of trimmed dark curls, the tantalizing asymmetrical skin of her inner labia leading into the inviting flesh that was her clit. And all of it shiny-slick with arousal. Carol licked her lips and lowered her face between Maria’s legs.

In some other reality, Carol might have teased more. She might have placed more soft kisses on Maria’s inner thighs and slowly worked herself inward. But patience had never been one of Carol’s strong suits and she wanted—she wanted so much—which meant that instead of teasing licks and nibbles, she put her mouth right where it counted, zeroing in on that crux of nerve endings that would take Maria everywhere she wanted her to go.

Fingers tangled in Carol’s hair, pulling hard.  
  
Maria moaned softly. “Yeah, right there,” she said, her voice soft and hazy. “Right there.”

Carol pointed her eyes at her, her vision skating over Maria’s perfect body to her even more perfect face. She had her eyes closed, her head listing to the side and her mouth hanging slightly open, delicate moans flowing over her kiss-debauched lips.

God, Carol was in trouble.

She kept going, licking softly, letting the warm wetness of her tongue tease under the hood of Maria’s clit and slide over the most sensitive spot on her body. Maria moaned louder.

“Fingers,” Maria gasped out hoarsely. “I need you to-”

Carol obliged, gently slipping one finger into the wet heat of Maria’s body. It was always a bit awkward, trying to use her hands and mouth at once—barely enough room to do both. But it was worth it for the deep, low moan Maria made and the way Carol could feel her muscles moving.

“More, one more, please,” Maria said, her voice a gasping whisper of a thing. “Carol.”

So Carol gave her one more, Maria’s body almost impossibly tight around two fingers. Carol worked them in an out, still licking, taking her cues from Maria—every moan, every writhe, every clench of her fist in the sheets or Carol’s hair.

“Little faster,” Maria said, her breathing getting more and more erratic—a breath in, Maria holding it in her lungs as long as she could, then a rapid exhale-inhale. Repeat.

Carol smiled. Maria was close, her hips rolling sensually with Carol’s rhythm.

With her free hand, Carol found one of Maria’s gripping the sheets. At the first brush of skin, Maria clutched at it desperately, squeezing so hard Carol thought her bones would break.

Come on, beautiful.

Around her, Maria grew tighter, and tighter, and-

A loud moan, a painful squeeze, a full body tremble, a flutter of muscles.

“Oh, _fuck_, Carol.”

Carol didn’t stop, licking and fingering until Maria let out something like a squeal and pushed her head away.

“Get up here,” she said, and Carol did, sure that Maria could still taste herself on her lips when she kissed Carol with intensity. A thank you. As though that hadn’t been just as much for Carol as it had been for her.

Maria’s hands found Carol’s small breasts, working her tiny nipples. Then down her hands slid, undoing the button on Carol’s jeans and slipping inside and under her underwear. It was fast, but fast was what Carol needed after this long, her own arousal aching now that she was paying attention to it again.

Fingers pushed inside of her, Maria’s palm pressing against her clit. They kissed the entire time it took to get her there, Carol slowly falling apart and moaning into Maria’s mouth, sometimes unable to do much more than let her own lips hang open while Maria licked inside or laved at her neck.

“There you go,” Maria said, when Carol was right on the cusp.

“Maria,” Carol whined, and then she came with a moan and a soft giggle, her body fluttering around Maria’s fingers. Maria licked her digits clean and kissed Carol again, petting at her hair.

“You’re gorgeous,” Maria said, running her fingers down a long warped scar on Carol’s ribcage. Carol’s body was like a scrapbook sometimes, this entry from a bicycle and a barbed wire fence when Carol was thirteen.

“Can we do this again?” Carol asked, almost blurting it. She took a deep breath the way she always did when she lost her footing, then tried again. “I’d like to get to know you."

She gripped one of Maria’s biceps, her thumb moving back and forth across soft skin.

“I should say no,” Maria said. “Two women in the Air Force.”

Carol nodded. It wouldn’t be the first girl she’d lost because she chose to fly, and it wasn’t Maria’s fault that they couldn’t ask and couldn’t tell. If this was all Carol ever got with Maria Rambeau, she would treasure it, and she would understand why there wasn’t more even if it stung.

“I should,” Maria repeated. “But there’s something about you.”

Carol exhaled, a bit of tension falling away.

“No one has to know,” Carol said, finding Maria’s lips with her fingers and tracing the bottom curve. “We’re just friends, right? Just a couple of gals being pals?”

“You know, Carol,” Maria said, leaning over and pressing her lips to hers, then letting their foreheads rest together. “You might be the best friend I’ve ever had.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments (and kudos and bookmarks) always appreciated. <3
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bistarbucky).


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